


Yesterday's Child

by CalamityCain



Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard
Genre: Bondage, Face-Fucking, Gen, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Bondage, Past Sexual Abuse, Self-cest, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:00:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22859623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalamityCain/pseuds/CalamityCain
Summary: Older Loki loves taking time-travel vacations to perv on his younger nubile self. Because of course.
Relationships: King Loki/Loki (Agent of Asgard)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 28





	Yesterday's Child

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise for this being much shorter than I wanted it to be, but I hope some of you still enjoy it

The perils of his job were nothing new to the Agent of Asgard. He had been assaulted, shot at, actually shot, kidnapped twice (the second being an arranged abduction as part of an elaborate decoy), and narrowly avoided death more times than he could count on fingers and toes.

But if he had been told that he would be snatched away by his future self while emerging wet and naked from a long bath, he would have considered it a long shot at best.

Besides, wasn’t he a reformed man by now – soon to be a reformed god? He had just about chalked up enough merits to be admitted back into the hallowed realm by the All-Mother. He had had his second chance, taken it, and used it well. So to find out that his older self was, after all this time, little more than an incorrigible degenerate…well, it was rather disheartening.

It had been such a good day, too. Nearly two months of being left in peace had left him admittedly more complacent than usual. No missions involving poorly disguised space cryptids, or an eldritch beast with tentacles where a face should be; nor random risk-laden encounters that just naturally drew themselves to a figure of chaos like himself. Not so much as a street punk who just wanted to knife him for the change in his pocket.

So when a shockingly strong elder assaulted him in the sanctity of his own bathroom, he was somewhat unprepared. A hand had clamped over his face like a suffocating iron mask while paper-thin lips whispered a sleeping spell into his ear. He felt himself collapse into a boneless heap as wiry arms bore him away (but not before taking good advantage of his unclothed and unconscious state, no doubt).

And now here he was, thanks to the damnable magic of time travel. At the mercy of himself.

In human years, this gnarled version of himself looked to be about 95, if a 95-year-old man were possessed of a porn star’s genitalia and a god’s vitality. He wondered if the gift of Idunn’s fruit had been denied him after all despite his years of good service. Perhaps he was doomed to immortality minus the eternal good looks. Asgard could be cruel to its exiles. And perhaps the All-Mother, much like her one-eyed male predecessor, was simply another devious bitch.

At least his magic seemed to have been fully restored. Loki was bound by a complex net of impressively strong glowing ropes that suspended him from the ceiling and kept his limbs tightly secured. He was little more than a fly in a web. A fly who – to add insult to injury – was being made to suck off the spider who had spun it.

“Look at me,” came the spider’s command. The thick cock, whose proportions were decidedly different from the one filling his own pants, filled his throat to the hilt. He choked and his eyes filled with tears as he obeyed. This pleased the older Loki.

“You’ve still got it,” he sneered. “Looking prettiest when you’re full of cock.”

He withdrew long enough for Agent Loki to gasp: “I’m curious. Have _you_ still got it?”

A mad cackle filled the small room – for perverse reasons, his captor had chosen a poorly decorated motel room in shades of pink and puke as the setting for this rendezvous. “I haven’t put some of my greatest talents to use for over a century. What a shame, really.” Once more the huge shaft filled his mouth. It was strangely amusing how old Loki had put considerable shapeshifting effort into owning the most shapely, exaggerated specimen this side of the galaxy. Such a penis would never be seen outside of a shop selling novelty dildos. It had verged on comical when it first popped out of old man’s leather pants. It was decidedly less funny when it began to deprive him of air.

Were he not being held against his will, he would almost be capable of enjoying it. Pretending it was another man’s cock, another anonymous hour of pleasure, or just another mission. The Agent of Asgard was very good at what he did. He was good because he enjoyed it. And because he knew few others would do what he was willing to.

Bony fingers gripped the back of his head to lock him in place and force him to become a sheath for every last inch of that ridiculous cock. He choked again, drooling and moaning as he allowed his lips to be stretched to the point of aching. There was a slim hope that the pervert would tire of him if he only acted like a brainless subservient toy. No satisfaction of taming a wild horse, of stamping out its fight.

If the damned old man would only stop talking, he could pretend he was merely servicing another mark. There were much worse things he had done than deal with men who wanted someone to face-fuck and slap around for a bit. If he focused hard enough, he sometimes found himself slipping into a mindless, almost meditative state, the only sensation being the breathlessness of phallic flesh pistoning in and out of his mouth. Each time pushing the limits of his gag reflex. He could even emit tears on command, for those who liked such things. _Please, sir._ More often than not, a show of vulnerability was the easiest way to get under someone’s skin.

Ironic, then, that the situation became much harder to play when then someone was your self.

“Close your eyes,” said the mocking voice. “But keep that slutty mouth open.”

He knew what was coming; call it job experience. When the spurt of hot seed gushed onto his face, he let his tongue slide out as if thirsting to catch every drop. He affected gratitude at the honour of licking the old man’s cock clean. “More, please,” he whispered.

He knew he had gone too far when old Loki slapped him bruisingly hard across the face. “Aren’t we a lying tramp! As if I didn’t know myself enough. You’re a mocking little brat.”

“It does take one to know one.”

“Doesn’t it, though?” A snap of those knobbly fingers, and Loki found himself flipped around in the magic spiderweb so he was now facing the ceiling. In addition to this update, some of the glowing tendrils wove themselves lightning-quick over his lips to clamp them tightly shut.

“You’ll save your mouthiness for later. I have a guest or two who might appreciate a squealer. And they _will_ make us squeal.”

A calloused touch ran down his cheek in an intimate gesture. _“Mmmmff.”_ For some reason it bothered him more the violation that had just taken place. Like being haunted by a ghost of himself. “Such a beauty I once was,” whispered future Loki. “When I pulled that sweet, nubile young thing from his scented bubble bath, I was sure I had the wrong boy. But my failing memory still served me.” A hand brushed his nipples. “I remember this face. This body. This…” The same hand slid between his legs. “How many have plundered this tight little rosebud, I wonder? Did we lose count after a while?” One, then two, fingers slid inside, making him squirm. “The All-Mother’s little whore.”

Three fingers now, oiling him up and preparing him ruthlessly for what was to follow. “Your memories are mine too, love. Even if my mind is not quite what it used to be. Tell me. Which one of them ruined you the most?” Two hands squeezed his ass painfully, cherishing its pertness. “Was it the dark elf mafioso who left you naked in a grimy alley after mouth-fucking you with a gun? Or the demon who made you serve her minions as she watched?”

Loki felt his lungs tighten as if in mimicry of his mind attempting to shut out his older self. “It didn’t matter that you could have taken them out, does it?” the cynical rasp continued. “You had to feign helplessness and turn yourself into a soulless subservient plaything. And it scarred you. Inside, you’re already starting to look like…” Old Loki gestured to his face. A smile stretched the gnarled face like a grimace. Shadows of intricate scars marked the papery lips, and Loki could not help but shudder as he wondered if dark things lay in wait to twist him into this creature with a bitter laugh and demented eyes. Of course his words rang true. His own words. His memories pursuing both the young and the old with equal lack of mercy, except that one had become what the other feared.

He felt incredibly alone – abandoned by those who had made him what he was – as cruel hands locked his hips in place and pushed his thighs apart. He knew the golden web sealing his lips would do little to stifle his cries of pain, because damn him if that cock wasn’t even bigger than before.

“Tonight,” said the leather-clad goblin who wore his name, “we both embrace the inevitable.”

**Author's Note:**

> _"You got your mama's style  
>  But you're yesterday's child to me  
> So jaded  
> You think that's where it's at  
> But is that where it's supposed to be  
> You're getting it all over me  
> Ex-rated_
> 
> _My, my baby blue  
>  I've been thinking about you  
> My, my baby blue  
> You're so jaded  
> And I'm the one that jaded you"_
> 
> © Marti Frederiksen / Steven Tyler


End file.
